Elective Amnesia
by whenithitsthefan
Summary: The Doctor's fob watch is stolen and he loses his memories, his TARDIS, his identity, even his feelings for Rose. Suddenly it's a race to see who can find the watch first, with Doctor's enemies and so-called friends alike searching...and in the midst of it all, a thin man in a suit aimlessly roams the streets of London. Rose/10, Jack/everyone, etc...
1. Bad Things

**The Doctor's fob watch is stolen from him, taking himself with it -his memories, his TARDIS, his identity, even his feelings for Rose. Suddenly it's a race to see who can find the watch first, with Doctor's enemies and so-called friends alike searching...and in the midst of it all, a tall, thin man aimlessly roams the streets of London. Rose/10, Jack/everyone, etc...**

**This one's a bit different, so bear with me!**

**There'll be a lot of characters on this (mostly from the new series). Maybe Doctors besides 10, actually. Tell me who you want to see included and I'll do my best.**

* * *

_My name is John Smith. _

That was the first thing the man thought as he opened his eyes to the sky.

The second thing that he thought was that he was lying down...in a trash heap.

_Odd. And a bit...undignified._

Why couldn't he remember anything?

His memories were blank...ish...but there were faces in his head, just _flashes -_a strange metal stick in his hand that made a _whrrr_ing sound when he used it, a police box, a blonde girl -

_Mind you, a very pretty blonde girl. _

Though he had absolutely no idea why the two former were in his memory (maybe he was some sort of hardwired criminal?) he suspected that the blonde girl was definitely important. No name surfaced with the picture, though.

_Bad Wolf. My Thief, you're lost..._

It was almost as if the thought in his head wasn't his own. Like something had _projected _the thought into his mind. But no -that would be impossible.

Shaking his head and groaning, he shifting his shoulder a bit, trying to push himself out of the smelly heap. He was wearing a suit -a very tight, pinstripe grey suit, and his shoes were -

"Ow!"

Pain flared in his arm, and he looked down to see that he'd re-opened a large wound. It was fresh, maybe a day or two old...but he wasn't a doctor, he wouldn't know for sure...

_Doctor, doctor, doctor..._

The word echoed in his mind.

Unless he _was _a doctor. _You never know when you've got amnesia. Unpredictable, but this watch will keep me safe. _

Was that a thought or a memory?

He was carrying no phone -but his his pockets were full of -

_Bloody hell-?_

His pockets were full of _everything, _it seemed. He reached a hand in to his left one and his fingers immediately connected with something _wet _and _squishy _that made him recoil in shock. Hesitantly, he put his hand into his pocket again and began to pull things out, laying them on the cobbles in the alley.

An orange plush hedgehog, a banana, rectangle glasses (he liked these, and put them on), a strange gizmo that went _ding, _a bird's nest (why?), a large-headed hammer, a key, a stethoscope, a flat-headed screwdriver, 3D glasses, a severed tentacle of something with suckers (that had been the _wet _and _squishy _item) and a tie. And that was just the _left _pocket.

Almost afraid now, he reached his hand into the right one.

The right pocket only held only two items; a strange metal stick -_the _strange metal stick, the one that _whrrr_ed -and a pad of paper that read in large letters, _BAD WOLF. _

He blinked. The letters were gone, replaced by new letters.

_DON'T BLINK._

_What?_

Shrugging, he put the paper back in his pocket. _All right, so I escaped from a mental asylum. It would make sense...though I don't know where I've gotten the items from..._

His arm still hurt.

_I've got to get that looked at, I really do..._

He was bound to find a hospital or phone or directory if he walked far enough, right?

Clutching his arm tightly and wincing, John Smith limped out of the alley.

* * *

_THE ROYAL HOPE HOSPITAL, _the sign proclaimed in large letters. Good enough for him.

He checked in and was immediately sent to the emergency room (really, it was too much fuss for a small scratch that twinged a bit when he moved it). _That's hospitals for you, I suppose._

"My chest hurts a bit too," he'd told a nurse. "And my leg, a bit -you suppose I could get that looked at, too?"

He was being whiny, he knew, but just in case he keeled over from a heart attack -after all, he didn't know what'd happened to him or who he was, and it didn't hurt to make sure he didn't have some severe heart condition or anything.

A crowd of trainees was gathered around his bed.

"All right, Miss Jones..." the lead doctor began. "Can you tell me what's wrong with him?"

Jones nodded, pulling out her stethoscope hesitantly. _No, check the papers first! _John urged the girl in his head, but he knew that if he said anything she wouldn't get any credit.

And who was he to talk, anyhow? She had more experience than he did.

Jones put the stethoscope to his chest, and frowned.

"Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"

Jones didn't respond for several seconds, just kept frowning and looking utterly bemused.

She pulled back. "Um...I don't -"

"You forgot to check her papers," Jones's superior told her. "His medical papers." He indicated John. "In fact, there isn't just one thing wrong with him -he's got amnesia, a cut arm -probably by a nail, so we should give him a Tetanus shot. Also, his ankle is sprained, but it's on the tail end -should be right in a few days with the proper care."

"And what about my chest?" John asked, indicating himself. "Something's wrong with it."

The guy looked a little taken aback that the patient was engaged in the conversation. "That's what Martha Jones is going to tell us."

Everyone looked at Martha Jones. There was a long, tense pause.

"I...I really don't know," she confessed weakly. "I'm sorry, Hobbes."

Hobbes scoffed, taking the stethoscope from her and pressing it to his chest. "It's not that _hard, _Martha! Just listen..."

His voice trailed off and he, too frowned. "...Though we might need a more detailed reading...heart reading..." he finished uncertainly, frantically moving the stethoscope around as if listening for something that should be there -or _shouldn't _have been there.

He lifted the stethoscope off of John's chest and ushered the group away, casting a confused glance at the Doctor as he did so.

_What is wrong with my heart? _

* * *

"You're an alien!" Hobbes accused, pointing his finger at John. "I _knew _there was something off about you!"

John sat up quickly in his bed as the man burst into the room, shouting accusations. "I'm a _what?"_

"Oh, _don't _play _dumb, _Martian! I _know! _Is this your plan? Infiltrate a hospital? Well, I caught you! This hospital will have no aliens here! It -"

"Hang on -"

"...Protected! Go back to where you -"

"No, no, you've got it wrong -"

The accusations continued, and a crowd was growing by the door. John swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up shakily. Hobbes moved back.

"Get back," he warned. "Or...I'll throw you out the window!"

"Doctor Hobbes, what -" Another trainee had stepped forward, looking at John curiously. "Why do you think this man is an alien?"

"Two hearts!" Hobbes's voice was triumphant as he held up a paper and displayed it to the crowd. When John caught sight of the paper, he froze. It was a picture of his own chest, from the cartiotocography -and something definitely was wrong with the picture.

"All right, all right -I'm sorry! I -" John might as well have been mute for all the good his words did him.

"Get OUT!"

_So that's who I am, _John thought numbly. _A man from outer space. _

Apologizing, he pushed his way through the crowd into the hallway (though he didn't really need to push; it parted easily). The trainee from before, Martha Jones, was looking at him curiously, but she didn't say anything as he pushed open the fire escape. He could feel every eye in the hallway on his retreating back.

After the door closed behind him with a deafening _bang, _he was left in silence, hurrying down the stairs as he struggled to hold everything together. Absently, he pulled his metal whirry stick thing _(I've got to think up a better name for it) _from his pocket, and began to toss it. Up, down, up, down.

_So, I'm an alien. _

The thought didn't freak him out as much as he would have thought; because technically, to _him, _that would mean that everyone _else _were aliens. The humans.

_Then why do I look human? _

He couldn't answer his own question.

_I don't look human on the inside. Got two hearts, that's different. _

He got to the bottom of the stairs and pushed the door open into the day and the noise.

Sirens blared.

_Oh, no... _he thought desperately as he peered around the corner of the building. _The police are here for me. _

Though they didn't look like police. They had big black vans with the letters U.N.I.T. painted on the side.

Whoever they were, it was probably safer to stay out of their way.

For the second time that day, John Smith entered an alleyway.

_I'm being watched. _

It was a feeling on the back of his neck more than anything else; an eighth sense, if you will.

_Eighth sense? Is that normal?_

He didn't turn around; didn't give any indication that he knew he was being watched, but both parties knew that the other knew.

John quickened his pace.

_Yes. There. _

Behind him, he could hear footsteps for a second, out of tune, and then switching to match his own speed so as not to be detected.

He broke into a run.

His follower broke all pretense of stealth now. It was a game of cat and mouse, through the winding alleyways of London. He glanced back once, and caught a flash black, but then he was forced to look back on his path as he jumped over a dustbin.

"STOP!"

It was the other man.

_Click. _

John froze, and slowly turned around.

Blue eyes, dark hair and coat, handsomely chiseled face. And the gun, pointed right at him.

"I know you," John realised. "How do I know you?"

"Sorry about that," Handsome apologised, lowering the weapon. "I know how you feel about guns -I had to get you to stop and listen."

John was silent, still watching warily as the gun was placed in the belt.

"Do you really not remember me?" The man asked sadly. "We were friends, you and I. And Rose."

_Roseroseroseroserose..._

"I don't remember you."

_But I do, somewhere._

"You're the Doctor," the man informed him. "That's what you call yourself. You're not human."

"Yeah, I figured," John responded dryly, but inside his mind was racing. "What am I, then? Where am I from?"

"Come to Torchwood," the man urged. "We'll help you. Everything you need. Promise, and you can get your memories back -"

"What's your name?" John...the Doctor...interrupted instead. "Before I come with you, I want to know your name."

The man paused for a moment.

"I'm Jack Harkness."

_Jackdeadbadwolfalivestayawaybadbadbadbadbadbad..._

The Doctor ran.

* * *

**No idea if this has been done before. With a gazillion DW fanfics on the internet, it probably has, but I just hope this is a bit different...I'm continuing if I get 5 plus reviews on this story (otherwise I get discouraged). So review!**

**whenithitsthefan**


	2. Discovered Things

**"Come to Torchwood," the man urged. "We'll help you. Everything you need. Promise, and you can get your memories back -"**

**"What's your name?" John...the Doctor...interrupted instead. "Before I come with you, I want to know your name."**

**The man paused for a moment.**

**"I'm Jack Harkness."**

**_Jackdeadbadwolfalivestayawaybadbadbadbadbadbad..._**

**The Doctor ran.**

* * *

London. It was so _vast, _so uncontrollably _large_. Every street corner was familiar; every little shop jolted something in his memory, like he'd seen it before, somewhere, somewhen. Twenty-first century, that's when he was, and it was scary as hell.

The metal whirry stick was still in his hand; he was clutching it like a lifeline. A connection to the person he was before -the _Doctor -_and it was comforting, somehow. _  
_

_Jack Harkness._

That was all he had to go on. Spotting an internet cafe, he adjusted his direction and pushed open the cafe door. It was stifling hot -outside had been _cold, _he then realised then, at _least _in the single digits, though it was as though he hadn't felt it. It was another reminder that he wasn't human.

_Computers. Right._

He sat down at one, impatiently pressing random keys.

_How does this thing turn on?_

There was a power button on the side, and his thumb found it and held it down. _One, two, three..._bzzzt!_  
_

The computer hummed to life and Google popped up.

_Jack Harkness, _he typed into the search bar.

Too many results.

_Jack Harkness Torchwood_

That narrowed it down considerably. He clicked on the very first result.

It was blocked. Up in the corner, a tiny box with _username _and _password _flashed.

_All right, brain._ He narrowed his eyes calculatingly._ Let's see if you know how to hack._

Five minutes later, he was in, mentally cheering himself on as _ACCESS GRANTED _flashed in wonderful green letters across the page. It was a government database, by the looks of it, belonging to something called U.N.I.T.

It took him a moment to realise why that was famiiar -U.N.I.T. was what was printed on the sides of some of the vans at the Royal Hope Hospital. After a five-second moment of hesitation, he typed JACK HARKNESS.

_Species: human, century 51._

_Caucasian male, dark hair, light eyes, 6'0"._

_Affiliated: Time Agency, Torchwood, the Doctor._

His gaze lingered on the last word curiously before moving on.

_Cannot be killed. Potential ally. Age unknown._

That was it.

_Shouldn't there be more information? It's a government database! They should have everything!_

And what did it mean by _cannot be killed? _Was it not allowed, or was that literal? And if Jack Harkness had been allied with the Doctor at one point...then why did he get that bad feeling that had literally made him run away?

Still frowning, he deleted JACK HARKNESS and typed TORCHWOOD.

This page was considerably longer. The Torchwood Institute, it said, established by Queen Victoria of all people (and here, there was another reference to the Doctor that he didn't quite understand). Basically, they dealt with extraterrestrial threats. _  
_

_Which would mean that I'm an extraterrestrial threat to be dealt with._

So...Torchwood was bad. _Stay away. _Being 'dealt with' was _not _a positive notion in his books.

_All right...one last search..._

He typed six letters into the bar.

_DOCTOR_

_Real name unknown_

_Aliases: Theta Sigma, John Smith_

_Often travels through time and space in his TARDIS with human companions and tin dogs. Has various items at hand; TARDIS key, stethoscope, vegetables, and notably his sonic screwdriver._

Yep, that seemed to just about sum him up. But what was a TARDIS?

There was more information on all of these things, but the Doctor didn't click on them because something else had caught his eye. Below the writing were a series of photographs; he counted ten. Every photograph was of a caucasian man. Each photograph made something twinge in his memory; especially the last one.

_Hang on...that must be me. The tenth picture._

He hadn't gotten a chance to look in a mirror yet, but it was the same, it _felt _the same; the pinstriped suit, the same hair and skin colour. And the teeth.

_At least I'm handsome, for an alien, _he thought wryly, grinning a little. _And what are the other pictures? More aliens?_

They all looked different, but each of them seemed to be defined by the same manic glint, war-worn eyes, and fashion sense. One wore a leather jacket and had large ears; another had curly hair, a hat, and a colourful striped scarf. One of them was even dressed like a boyish Edwardian cricketer...with a stick of celery stuck to his coat.

A draft of cold air blew onto his neck. Ten closed the tabs quickly, turning to see the silhouette of a shivering Jack Harkness in the cafe doorway.

_Dammit!_

"How did you find me?" He asked, his voice carrying easily across the room in the silence of the cafe.

_"Shhh!" _Someone hissed at him, but he ignored the person.

Jack crossed to him in two strides, glancing down at the computer the Doctor had been working on and raising an eyebrow briefly when he saw the blank desktop. He didn't comment, but Ten mentally kicked himself for not erasing the browser history.

"I _need _you to come into Torchwood," Jack told him urgently. "We can _protect _you there. You're not safe in London, there are people -well, not _just _people -after you, and you don't even realise it -"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Maybe you know _me, _but I haven't got a _clue _who you are -just words on a page."

"I'm your _friend!" _Jack's voice was indignant.

"...Well, you _were_ pointing a gun at me only ten minutes ago..._friends_ don't tend to do _that_."

Jack ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "What about Rose, then? Would you listen to Rose?"

_Rose. _There was that name again.

"I don't know who Rose is," the Doctor replied, but his voice held doubt.

_DOCTOR!_

Ten staggered. He was vaguely aware of Jack steadying him, and he blinked rapidly.

_Something is in my mind. Something just _shouted _at me...in my _mind!

_Who are you? _He thought furiously. _Why are you in my head?_

But the voice in his head was gone.

"Doctor -Doctor!" Jack was whispering as the few occupants of the cafe stared at them.

"Is he all right?" A young man asked, holding out a cell as his index hovered over the keypad. "Should I call someone?"

"I'm fine! I don't need..." _Another hospital._

Ten stood upright again, and his gaze locked with Jack's.

"I'm _fine," _he insisted again. "And...don't follow me."

He shoved past the black-clad man and pushed the cafe door open. Jack Harkness stood back in the cafe, silently (and a little creepily) watching him go.

As soon as the Doctor was out of sight of the cafe's glass facade, he turned left, hiding just in the shadows and barely out of view of anyone on the street. Only ten seconds after the cafe door had closed behind him, he could hear it being opened again as his _friend _exited the building as well. There was a pause, then a beeping of a phone being dialed. The Doctor strained his ears -his hearing was extremely acute, he'd found. All of his alien senses were.

_"...Found something?" _A tinsy voice on the other end asked.

He glanced around him surreptitiously for a split second, and then began to walk. The Doctor waited twenty seconds and then trailed behind him.

_Oh, I'm not conspicuous at all, _Ten chastised himself. _W__alking through London in a suit and converse when it's practically too cold to snow. Ninja mode, activate..._

"Better than some_thing," _Jack answered smugly. "I found _him. _I've found the Doctor."

There was a long, triumphant pause. There was more of the voice, but Ten was further away now, and could only make out Jack's half of the conversation.

"The box, too, yeah. And I've got the key now. Nicked it off him. I got lucky, he had some sort of fit and didn't notice."

There was another long pause.

"Memories are still in the watch. We're still looking for it, but we'll find it before _she _does."

Jack Harkness grinned, and there was a click as the phone call went dead.

* * *

"That's it," Ten hissed as ahead of him, Harkness's pace sped to a brisk walk and he was forced to match his speed. "I'm getting answers."

Harkness broke into a run.

The Doctor followed suit.

_Probably not the best idea, really, _Ten thought grimly to himself as his feet thudded against the pavement. _He's got a gun. I've got a..._ he glanced at the metal whirry stick he'd pulled out of his pocket without even realising it. _...Screwdriver. A sonic screwdriver._

_What kind of alien looks at a screwdriver and thinks 'hey, this could be a little more _sonic?'

Jack turned abruptly, straight into the path of the car. The car's horn screeched as Jack barely avoided being hit, racing across the street.

_Two can play at cat and mouse, Jack. This time, I'm the cat._

He twirled around a car as the driver shouted something angrily. He saluted cockily, turning back just in time to see Jack's black coat disappearing around the street corner. He started forward...

...And promptly tripped on the curb and landed on his face. His arms didn't react fast enough, and his nose took the brunt of the fall.

_OW! Blimey..._

"This is what defines you," he muttered to himself as he pushed himself to his feet and held his nose with one hand. "A car, a curb, and a bloodied nose."

He began running again, wishing that it _were _snowing a bit so that he could follow Jack's footprints. Not that that would actually help much, what with the hundred other pairs of boots he'd have to pick out from...

Turning around the corner, he stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the street before him.

It was _bursting _with people; a mob, a mass, a multitude of macaronic mortals -

_Really working the alliteration there -_

He definitely needed to stop the internal ADD commentary.

His eyes scanned the heads of the crowd for a dark-haired man.

_Ooh, look, there's one. _

And another over by the yogurt shop...

And about ten more.

Jack was here _somewhere..._if only he could _see..._

Without even realising it, different parts of his brain had begun to search different sections of the crowd for the familiar/unfamiliar face. Categorising, matching, and checking, like a computer.

_There! _

He wasn't far -the only reason that Ten had been able to pick Jack out was because the man had been pushing through the crowd violently. If he'd been walking casually, it would have taken the Doctor ages.

_Not smart, or does he _want _me to chase him?_

He didn't dwell on it; instead dancing around the people, mumbling apologies as ahead, Jack knocked down a dark-skinned man in something of his twenties and then continuing without even glancing down.

Seconds later, the Doctor was in the exact same spot, and he glanced down at the guy Jack had shoved.

"Doctor?" the man said in recognition. Ten had a brief flash of emotions -confusion, mostly, with a few extra ones mixed in.

"Don't know you, sorry! Gotta run -"

"Doctor, it's Mickey!"

The name didn't ring any bells, and Ten kept running as behind him, Mickey continued to shout.

"What have you done with R-"

The rest of the word was lost on the wind. The Doctor kept his sights on Jack, and was pleased to see that he was slowly catching up.

* * *

**Not too confusing or short, I hope. I tend to load a ton of information into each chapter and then have nothing to talk about in the next...oh, well. Maybe I'll switch POV's. **

**Ashena-Iulik -I'm glad that you liked it! Yup, no chameleon arch, but I think something like that might come later. **

**onfire99 -Hehe, I was hoping someone would notice that. Midnight's my favorite episode, and the Dr. Hobbes in my story kinda fits the Professor Hobbes...ish. And I really am trying to switch POV's, really, but once I've started on one it's usually hard for me to switch...I'll get there.**

**Thanks to everyone else who reviewed, favorited, and followed this. **

**And I know that a lot of people don't like Mickey, so I'll keep him to a minimum. Rose is coming, don't worry! **

**whenithitsthefan**


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